Liebe Und Krieg, Lyubov I Voina
by FragilePuzzle
Summary: AU. Mello is a German soldier at the forefront of the Nazi attack on Russia. Near is a small Russian boy who is forced to watch his old life crumble. Will war keep them apart? Even if it does bring them together, what price will they have to pay? SHOTA.


**A/N: **Hey guys – this is the story that you all requested on the poll on my page. It had the most votes, but never fear, because I am also going to end up writing a few of the other top-placing stories. So if you voted for this one…woo? XD

Sorry if everything isn't exactly historically accurate. : l Remember, this is just for fun! I did do some research, but you can only know so much…especially when I wasn't exactly IN WW2. ^ ^;;;

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"Atten-tion!" screamed a voice, Mello's eardrums practically beginning to bleed as his commander's bellowing vocals echoed through the megaphone. "TO-day, on June 22, 1941, Germany is taking a BIG leap for-ward!"

There was silence at this moment, everybody taking a moment to stand with pride—to accept their duties, and to commemorate their forefathers that had given their lives when the war had started in September of 1939. It was now their responsibility to move Germany, as well as the Axis Powers, forward. They must win this war at any cost.

"World War TWO!" the man started again, his voice harsh and unforgiving, just as his demeanor. "The Axis Powers…we are U-NITED as ONE!"

It was then that every soldier in the premises, all hundred-thousand of them, snapped to perfect attention. There was a sea of hands swiftly moving to touch the outside of war helmets, and a stomping of heavy combat boots as they straightened their backs.

"IN THE NAME OF HERR HITLER," the man yelled, all of the soldiers snapping up their guns, letting the weapons resting on their shoulders. There were loud cries of 'Ja!' all around, and it was then that the men were deployed. Marching down the streets, thus began the attack on Russia.

-I-x-I-x-I-x-I-

Near was sitting at his table for dinner, his hands folded in front of him in a silent prayer, his soft white curls falling around his face. The twelve-year-old boy slowly fluttered his eyelids open, however, to take a peek at his mother, who had been coughing during the moment of prayer. She was getting sicker and sicker every day, and the worst part of it all was that he could do absolutely nothing about it. No matter how much medicine he stole or how much time he worked to try and afford a doctor that could cure her, they all said the same--nothing would work.

After a few more moments of silence, Near closed his eyes once again, listening as his grandmother finished the prayer. Then they all opened their eyes, beginning to eat the small meals they had--while it wasn't much, it was food enough, and Near appreciated all of the work that had gone into gathering such a nice meal. It was his mother's thirtieth birthday today, so they had tried to make it as nice as possible for her, wanting her to feel as loved and supported as they could manage, hoping it would somehow cure the sicknesses that resided inside of her body.

"Mama?" he asked softly, handing her his own glass of water as she continued to cough. "Does Mama need me to get her a glass of water and some of the extra bread from in the pantry? Maybe she should not be eating meat--"

Near was cut off by a loud rumbling noise outside, and then a roar. He quickly stood from his spot at the table, being the only man in the house since his father had died years ago, deciding that it was his duty to see find out what could possibly cause that much noise. However, he didn't even make it over to the window before another large rumble shook the house, causing many of his mother's favorite china dishes to fall to the floor and shatter.

"Mama…!" he suddenly gasped, his eyes widening as he threw open the curtains, knees practically shaking until they gave out. "Mama, take Nataliya and Babushka and leave out the back door!"

His mother quickly stood, pulling Near's baby sister into her arms, making her way over to the window as well. Her eyes watered over as she clenched the baby girl to her chest, quickly grabbing on to Near's arm and trying to drag him backwards, away from the window, as though taking him away from it would simply make it go away. However, the white-haired boy only tugged his arm from her grasp, looking at the woman with hard and serious eyes.

"Mama, leave."

"But N--"

"I said leave! Now! I am the man of this house, and I will not let my family be hurt!" he suddenly demanded, pointing towards the back door, and watching as his mother's eyes wavered before giving in. His own orbs flickered back to the window, moving away from the sight before coming to rest on his mother once again, his hands clenched into determined fists.

"You are like your father," she murmured, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead before taking one last look at her son and rushing towards the back door, grabbing on to Babushka's arm. She took the three of them over to the back door, opening the entryway without any hesitation, not bothering to look back again as Near watched her go. As soon as he saw that his family was gone, he let his fear show once again, eyes flickering between terror and the feeling of impending death before turning back to the window.

Troops lined the streets, the Swastika proudly displayed on the arm of each soldier, their guns gripped firmly in those same arms. Near could see people fleeing their houses, many of them getting shot on sight, without so much as a warning. His watering eyes spilled over as he saw the mother of one of his schoolmates lying on the ground, soaked in a pool of her own blood, having been shot straight through the heart.

Then the men started towards the houses--two or three to each. They simply barged down the doors, screaming in German at each other and the people inside the buildings, causing more screams and panic to erupt in the streets. That was when Near realized what the loud noises had been. The small boy looked up, only to see aircrafts in the sky, small bombs being dropped down into their city.

If it weren't for the fact that these German soldiers were particularly loud and rambunctious, Near wouldn't have even noticed as one of them came storming into their house, bellowing something in his native language. Slowly, Near turned to the intruder, seeing a blonde man pointing a gun straight at his face.

"Boy," he yelled, apparently speaking Russian as well as German. "Where are your parents?"

Near remained silent, his tearful eyes narrowing with spite as he looked over the man, baggy white clothes rustling slightly as he took a step forward, trying to show that he was not afraid of the gun.

"Tell me where they are or I'll blow your ficking head off, blvde fotze!" he screamed, seeing the defiant look on the small boy's face.

"They are gone!" Near finally said, his eyes spilling over as he spat at the ground near the soldier's feet, shaking his head angrily. "What did they do? Why do they deserve to be attacked? They have done no harm to you! We have done no harm to you!"

Mello's eyes narrowed as he looked at the arrogant boy, but softened slightly when he saw the large teardrops rolling out of his gray orbs. But that did not mean he would spare the child's life. Of course not. He was nothing but a filthy Russian, and he had to be destroyed--he was no different from an adult man, so why was he feeling so guilty about the idea of killing him?

"Shut up," he demanded, his voice wavering this time. "Or I'll shoot you."

The blonde soldier looked at the small boy once again before beginning to check every room in the small house, looking in their attic and basement as well, finding nothing. Near only looked at him with an 'I-told-you-so-expression' before the blonde spoke up.

"I suppose I will…I will just kill you in place of them…filthy Russian and all."

He looked over at the white-haired boy, blue eyes tracing over the soft contours of his prepubescent face, a thought suddenly striking him down like an iron anvil. He was only a _child_. A goddamn _child._ And here he was, threatening to shoot him, invading his home…Jesus Christ, now he was thinking like a pussy. It was either kill this boy--one insignificant life--or be shamed, disgraced, and killed himself. It should have been an easy choice. The problem was that it wasn't.

"Let's go. Outside. Now."

Near was led out the back door of his house, his bare feet padding against the soft, dirt road that led around their house, in between another, and to the main street. However, he did a double take after a moment, gray orbs shutting before slowly opening again, as though he couldn't believe what he saw. No. It just wasn't possible.

"Mama!" Near suddenly shrieked, seeing that it was his mother lying by the side of the road, a bullet wound in her forehead. His younger sister was lying underneath her, having been crushed under his mother's weight, her young and fragile neck hitting the ground at the wrong angle as well--snapping completely. His grandmother was a bit further up the road, so it appeared as though his heroics had all been for nothing.

However, instead of crying, Near only turned to the blonde soldier, running up to him and beginning to pound his fists against his chest as hard as he could muster, obviously not doing much as the man continued to stand there.

"Svoloch!" the small boy screamed, trying his hardest to make some sort of impact on Mello, the soldier only looking at him with a slightly pitying expression. "Poshyol ty! Kooshi govno ee oomree! Mama! Mama…!"

Slowly, he fell to the ground, beginning to cry this time. The soldier looked around before kneeling down next to him, resting his gun on his own shoulder, blinking a few times before he allowed pity to flood his heart. Jesus, if only he would have shot the boy when he had the chance.

"My name is Mello," he tried, grabbing on to the boy's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head up and forcing him to make eye contact. However, he only saw hatred in those large gray eyes, and it didn't surprise him when the petite child raised a hand and slapped him across the face as hard as he could, a small smack resounding only moments before being swallowed in the screams and yelling of the surrounding ruckus.

"I hate Mello," he said softly, his voice rising as he repeated it. "I hate him!"

"I didn't shoot your mother--"

"Mello is with the men that did, and he does nothing to try and stop them! My Mama is dead!" he yelled desperately, smacking the soldier again, as though it would somehow bring his mother back. "M-my Mama is dead! I-I have no family left now, and it is all Mello's fault!"

"Kid, it's not me--"

"Shoot me," Near said softly, his voice rising and falling like the tempo in a piece of dramatic music, his eyes watering over again as he looked up at Mello. "Mello seemed to want to shoot me so badly earlier, so why does he not now? I am going to die anyways, as soon as another soldier finds me! I have no family left anymore! Just shoot me!"

"I'm not gonna shoot you. I have a plan. You gonna trust me enough to help you?" Mello asked, looking at the small boy with his own piercing eyes, the pad of his thumb rubbing away a tear that was trailing down his rounded jaw.

"Nyet."

"Would you at least tell me your name?"

"…Near."

"Ja. That is a very nice name."

"Mello is not my friend, he should not pretend to be so."

There was silence for a moment, Mello only continuing to rub the roundness of Near's cheek with the pad of his thumb, smearing a bit of the dirt from his own skin onto the boy's alabaster flesh, mixing it with some of his drying tear-trails to become a sort of muddy paste.

"My Mama picked it out," he whispered, another few tears dripping down his cheeks. "And she is dead thanks to Mello."

"Please trust me…" the blonde pleaded, something yanking at his heartstrings as he watched the petite boy cry. "Will you trust me just until I can get you somewhere safe, Near?"

"Why does Mello want to save me?" he asked hollowly, weakly batting at the soldier's arm and trying to push it away from his face, not bothering enough to force it off completely.

The man didn't have an answer, so he just helped the smaller boy off of the ground, brushing the both of them off before walking over to the body of Near's mother, slipping her eyelids closed.

"She is in Himmel now," murmured the blonde, reciting a small prayer before standing up, a few more of his heartstrings snapping as he looked at the small boy once again.

"Himmel?"

"Eh…I think you would say 'Heaven.'"

Near only looked at Mello for a moment, silence thick in the air as he recited a quiet prayer for his mother.

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**End Note: **Oh, and I forgot to mention that the story title means "Love and War" in German, and then the same thing in Russian…and I hope you guys like this so far! : D

And, one final thing--Near doesn't pronounce 'Mama' like a baby would. It's a Russian word. : P You only emphasize the first 'ma.'

~FragilePuzzle


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